The Rebirthing of Darkness (DISCONTINUED)
by ilikethemsalty
Summary: Voldemort is defeated and peace is finally here. Or so everyone thinks. Little did they know a girl named Dahlia might just be the next She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. (Based off J.K Rowling's series "Harry Potter." All rights to J.K Rowling.) DISCONTINUED
1. chapter one- introductions & flashbacks

**chapter one~ introductions and flashbacks**

Fifteen Years Ago...

_The tabby cat leapt across the street, dodging a car just barely. It balanced itself onto a wall covered with ivy and moss, a hint at its age and unruliness. The cat, in merely an instant, was now transformed into an elderly lady with square glasses and a stern face, her legs dangling over the cobblestone wall. "Miss Granger, are you certain about this?" _

_"Yes, the entire Ministry was buzzing at the news this morning." A bushy-haired woman appeared on the fencing, her demeanor that of respect and authority. The elderly woman nodded, unfazed by her sudden entrance._

_ The younger woman took a sip from her cup of coffee. "The power was excessively strong. You do, for a fact, realize the significance of this, don't you, Professor McGonagall?"_

_"I retired years ago," sighed the elderly one, "and since then have lost the right to the name." She enviously glanced at the chocolate syrup-infused macchiato the younger woman was drinking from and thought to herself about how awful it was that only Muggles served them._

_The other shrugged and replied, "Yes, but anyways you deserve it."_

_"Enough chat. You said they felt a strange air here?" the older woman asked, her eyes narrowed in thought as she perused the younger's words from earlier that day. _

_"Yes," nodded the younger, "and it was so oddly breathing 'thunderous.' We're concerned there may be another Voldemort rising." Those very words seemed to shake the earth. _

_The elderly woman gave a heavy sigh for that of her age and wisdom, sliding off of the fence and onto the pavement. "And here we thought we were finally rid of that evil polluting our world."_

_"It can be avoided," the younger said in response, her eyes turning to evade the elder's. _

_"You don't mean...?" The older woman's wrinkled face was now contorted in sheer disgust. "Hermione Granger, you don't mean to suggest we do such an atrocious deed! We'd sooner become the next You-Know-Who that way! And didn't you used to curse people who wanted to do such obscenities?" _

_The younger one bearing the name Hermione Granger sighed, fluffing her light brown hair. "Think about it, Professor. Killing one could save _millions. _Wouldn't that be worth it?" Her eyes portrayed a different image, however._

_"Are you even listening to yourself?" The one called Professor shook her head vigorously.  
_

_The bushy-haired lady sighed. "The rest of the Ministry voted for it almost unanimously. Such affairs the Minister does not have much power over. I did try my best, professor, but most are convinced the child is evil at heart. And if I complain I might as well lose my job.__"  
_

_The older woman sighed. "Nobody knows quite for sure if it is another Voldemort. But would you really kill a poor, innocent child whose parents are just celebrating its birth? I didn't think that you were that kind of person. Or are you really a Death Eater wearing a mask?"_

_The other pursed her lips. "I suppose we should do a deeper investigation before we jump to conclusions."_

_"There's the sensible part of you!" The professor coughed meaningfully. "I was beginning to think it took a vacation." _

_"Ha-ha," Hermione laughed drily. __The two discussed the topic for several more minutes and Hermione's macchiato went cold._

_Then night soon fell, the sun's mark on the sky fading and the smaller stars replacing the sonorous and the women left the neighborhood. _

_A strong wind brushed over the homes, carrying hints of enchantment and great power. __Little did they know that beneath the source of the wind, inside Number 4, Privet Drive, a small baby with the most incredible powers was now born._

* * *

I sat on the edge of the sidewalk, holding my briefcase between my legs. My caramel-brown hair lay tangled in knots all over my shoulders and back. I checked my silver wristwatch and sighed. How long could he possibly take? Finally, a figure comes rushing through the train station, swinging a bag to and fro. "At last! You are twenty-one minutes and thirty-three point seven seconds late," I informed him, getting up and yanking the bag from his grip. My tall black heels that I recently bought for such occasions clip-clopped on the ground. "Thank you. Goodbye." I slipped a crisp twenty-dollar bill into his outstretched hand as to appear a normal transaction for any passersby and I briskly walked away, ignoring the frantic calls he gave me.

I pushed through the hordes of people gathered all throughout King's Cross Station, smiling and trying my absolute best to appear normal. I grabbed a trolley, put my briefcase in it, and intook a deep sigh. If I was wrong, I might end up with a broken leg and arm, or even possibly a concussion. But it must be right. It's what I heard from all the strange rumors regarding this part of my quest.

Glancing back one more time, I took in the sight of my father. His portly shape was diving through the crowds, desperately striving to find me somewhere in the mob of people and officials. I sighed as I realized this might be the last time I ever see him again. And he didn't know it.

My eyes welled up with tears as memories of my childhood hit me like a football, right smack dab in the face. And all he did for me... Well, that was the past now. I _needed _to do this.

"Dahlia! Wait!" he shrieked over the wind, his voice both confused and anxious. I shook the tears out of my eyes, the air swallowing them whole as I ran as fast as a horse with the trolley's handle in my tight clutch, zooming towards a brick wall. Was I really about to do this? But I couldn't turn back now. I had a mission. A very important mission at that.

I was going to find Harry Potter.


	2. chapter two- platform 9 and 3 4

**A/N: Oh, wow! Now I'm just finally seeing the date on the computer. Yikes. Has it really been a month since I first posted this story? I am quicker with my KotLC fanfictions' updates, mostly due to the fact that I took a break from HP and I tend to write longer chapters for these. I hope I'll be able to update a lot more consistently, but for now... CHAPTER 2:**

* * *

**chapter two~ platform 9 and 3/4**

I didn't have time to debate with myself. So I just did it. I rammed myself and the trolley into the wall, bracing myself for the pain that would follow. But I just slid right through. Like it was but air. Stunned, I stared at where the wall still stood and I shook my head in pure disbelief. "Wow," was all I could say to comment on it. I turned around and the view was purely majestic. There was no other word to describe what I was seeing. Hundreds of families rushed about, ushering their children towards the train, pushing their baggages inside. The sweet smell of food wafted around the station, and smoke billowed out of the train.

"The Hogwarts Express leaves in _five minutes! _I repeat, we're leaving in _five minutes_!" the train engineer hollered, and just like cold water was splashed on me, I ran towards the train, swinging myself onboard. I sighed, noticing a man stalking behind me. The train conductor to be sure.

"Hey! Do you have a ticket?" the conductor shouted after me.

I stopped in my tracks, swiveling around to face him. "Blimey. Yes, I do. Why else would I be on this train?" I said with an air of sarcasm, but what else could one with a snarky personality say?

"Show me your ticket," the train engineer demanded, holding out his hand. I rummaged inside my bag, looking for anything to counterfeit it. Of course, I wasn't prepared. I scoured for anything remotely convincing, and the most brilliant thing happened! Tucked beside my cell phone and spare ballpoint pen was a ticket for this exact train at this exact platform! I whipped it out and handed it to the train conductor. He pursed his lips and said, "Get on, then." I flashed him an indignant smirk and boarded the train, my eyes flaring with amazement. Inside the train car were dozens of students, chatting animatedly and eating chocolate. It looked nice and peaceful. I smiled and coasted into the nearest seat, getting cozy as I watched the view glide by out the window.

"Hiya there. Had a run-in with the conductor, haven't you? Happens to the best of us." I turned around in my seat to see a tall boy with a sour face. It looked as though he had just eaten ten lemons. His smile was halfway sly, halfway plain annoyed. Was he spying on me? "I'm Thomas Giles. A prefect of Slytherin."

What was he talking about? A perfect of Slither-In? Whatever did that mean? "Er, hi." I offered him a wide smile, trying to hide my ignorance for what he was talking about. "I'm Dahlia." I tried to smoothen my knotted hair, feeling very embarrassed about my appearance all of a sudden.

"Dahlia...?" The boy raised an eyebrow. Uh-oh. He wanted to know my last name. My gig was officially up.

"Dahlia Dakrell." I leered at the boy, daring him to contradict me.

"Well, I haven't seen you around Hogwarts." He frowned. "And you don't look like a first-year to me."

"I'm a transfer," I smiled more politely this time. Perhaps it was slightly forced, but again this situation was cursing me.

"Where from?" he asked me. Why is he so interested in me? I glanced up and saw dozens of students milling about the train car. He put his finger on his chin. "Beauxbatons? You kinda have an accent." Do I?

"Yes, that is it," I grinned far too widely for it to be believable. But that idiot swallowed it up like a wheatcake.

"Oh, neat." He nodded. "I hope you'll like it here at Hogwarts. Not what you'd get in France, but- it's very_ pleasant_." The last words... it almost seemed like he spat them out.

"I hope I will, too," I said. He seemed satisfied with our chat and so he left the train car, off to pester some other innocent being I assumed.

Maybe I was wrong to do this. To follow all this with, what, only an instinct? No. I needed to do this. And that letter I found from decades ago suggested I have an uncle. My father tried to deny it as much as he could, but it was obvious he was indeed hiding something. It was a letter to a school of magic. Hogwarts, it was called. I was absolutely dubious when I discovered it. The letter was inviting my uncle to an academy of witchcraft and wizardry, as unbelievable as that sounds. And the thing was, I thought I might have been one, too. A witch. Sometimes I find myself thinking or wishing something, and then poof, it just happens. Surreal incidents occur all the time with me. But, truthfully? The real reason I left home to find Harry Potter was because I felt I didn't belong. Everything was perfect, sure, but I always felt like the odd one out. For a long time I contemplated the idea of running away to bring to light my true purpose for the world, and the night I turned fifteen I realized I had to do this.

It was a sunny afternoon. I had been playing football with my friends; I was always a tomboy. One of my friends scored a goal and my team was losing. I was trying to get my team to win, but the best players were on the opposing team, so we didn't have a shot. I was getting really frustrated now. I knew it was just a game, but I did take football seriously. So I kicked the ball, all my fury sinking into it, and to my dismay it flew through the air as fast as a missile and smashed into my best friend's face. He got a concussion, _because of me. _I knew no human being could pitch a football as I just did. Then I _knew _I was different. I was not normal.

"TEN MINUTES TO HOGWARTS!" the conductor shouted, walking through the train cars.

I slid my phone out of my bag and checked my messages. I got 32 from the family. I started to text back, to assure them I was fine, but someone yanked it from my hand. I looked up and then a pang of irritation filled me; it was the same bloke who had that lengthy interrogation with me earlier. "Hey!" I protested.

"Sorry, but, I need to confiscate this. No technology at Hogwarts. Didn't you read the manual?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I was in a hurry," I lied. Who in their right mind would willingly read a manual anyway? "And _anyhow,_ my family needs to know I safely arrived. How am I supposed to do that without my cell phone?" I stood on my feet, feeling every hair on me rise up in anger. "It's not the eighteenth century, you know!"

"Send a letter through owl mail," he told me, rolling his eyes.

I rolled mine right back at him. "I don't _own _an owl." Who does?

"Just wait until we get to Hogwarts." He shook his head, looking sympathetically back at me as if I was mental, and then the boy walked away, _with my phone. _And now my family definitely won't hear from me anytime soon.

* * *

The train conductor announced that we arrived, and I quickly slipped my bag back over my shoulder and took the briefcase in my opposite hand, jumping off the train car and onto the ground. I was tempted to kiss it, honestly, that much time passed on that stiff seat in the train. "...Hi," I said in an honestly horrible French accent. My mother is French, but my own French is an atrocity to fear. Maybe a little of my natural French accent slipped in when I was talking to that Giles bloke.

"Yeh a first year?" an abnormally tall man with a bushy beard walked over and gruffly asked me.

"No," I said in my best French imitation, which was really a disgrace to society, like I told you before.

"How old are yah?" The man seemed genuinely interested. Why is everyone acting like I'm the only teenager here?

"Fifteen," I replied, trying to emphasize the 'z's that weren't even there, like the French do.

The man frowned and studied me. "I don't believe I know ya."

"I am a transfer student," I added a polite smile, "from Beauxbatons."

The bearded man appraisingly looked at me before grinning again. "I'm Hagrid. I reckon Minerva'll want teh take a look at yeh." Of course she will. And also, who is she?

"Of course." I thought maybe I was too heavy on the accent as I nodded disdainfully and followed Hagrid through a series of twists and turns and hallways and hedges.

* * *

Behind the desk sat a very old woman with wrinkles bestowing her entire face and square glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. She pursed her lips. "A new student?" she asked questioningly. How can everyone have such a good memory? Weren't there hundreds, perhaps thousands, of students in this school? "Hagrid, I told you, I'll help out with the paperwork because I know Hogwarts is falling apart as being short-staffed, but any of the major work is for Professor Snill."

Professor Snill? Whoever was that? I kept silent, even though my mind was burning with questions. A strong flame that could not easily be snuffed, curiosity was.

"What's your name?" the old woman asked me, her sharp eyes falling on my tangled hair. She glanced over at Hagrid and shook her head, sighing.

"I am Dahlia Dakrell. Transfer from Beauxbatons."

"Well, I am Minerva McGonagall, and I should not be here... Hagrid, I sincerely apologize, but as you remember, my retirement party was indeed a good eighteen years ago." She turned to the bushy-haired man and sighed. "I do what I can to assist Hogwarts, but-"

"It's no problem, Minerva," a clipped voice said from behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a tall, youthful woman with a magenta hat, topped with swan feathers. She carried a clipboard with a dark stenciled pen which, of course, had feathers. As did her dress. What was it with this woman and feathers?

"I need to leave now," Minerva announced, waving some kind of stick-like object- could it be a wand- and somehow, out of some sort of witchcraft, the stack of papers sliding all over her desk were swept into a grandly organised pile.

My jaw was wide open. "Wha- how- did-?" I fainted to the floor.

What a great way to start the schoolyear.

* * *

_To be continued..._


End file.
